


Cat and Owl

by timkons



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drabble Collection, Ficlet Collection, M/M, One Shot Collection, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2018-12-02 16:30:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 17,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11513154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timkons/pseuds/timkons
Summary: A collection of Bokuroo ficlets that are all under 1,000 words.Chapter index here!





	1. first kisses; rated t

“You’re a really good kisser,” Bokuto slurs lazily against Kuroo’s lips, his fingers still idly brushing up against the short hairs on the back of Kuroo’s neck. They must have been kissing for nearly twenty minutes already, yet neither one has found the act boring enough to stop.

“Learned from the best.” Both of them know Kuroo’s only kissed Bokuto, and it makes them both laugh, giddy from the joy of first love and shy touches. It’s only been a week since they admitted that they both see the other as more than friends, and it’s only been twenty-one minutes since the first kiss.

“Who else you been kissin’, huh?” Bokuto teases back. He feels more than sees Kuroo smile against his mouth, Kuroo’s steady palm on his neck rubbing at the warm patch of skin just beneath his jaw, where Bokuto has to shave the stubble off tomorrow.

“Just this one guy. You wouldn’t know him. He’s super hot. Plays volleyball, ace of his team, a real looker.”

They’re facing each other too close to really focus on the details, but there’s no way Kuroo could miss the way Bokuto’s eyes light up with adoration and joy. “Sounds like a really cool guy. You should kiss him some more, maybe.”

“I’m thinking about it,” Kuroo whispers, and he practically kisses only Bokuto’s upper lip and some teeth, since Bokuto is smiling too widely to kiss back properly. They’ve already tested the tongue thing, especially how tongues feel while sliding against each other and hands groping at their eager and pliant bodies, but somehow they’ve settled on this, slow and chaste and wonderful.

“I think he’s thinking about it too.”

Kuroo laughs and kisses Bokuto so loudly that the smack of his lips against Bokuto’s cheeks and lips and chin makes a wet sound, but Bokuto’s response is soft and playful. Bokuto licks at his nose and bites his tongue and Kuroo didn’t know he could be so happy from such a small movement of mouths on mouths. He’s so pleased, in fact, with rolling around on his mom’s couch that he nearly doesn’t process the fingertips dipping into his jeans’ waistband.

Kuroo breathes in sharply and moves away enough that he can take all of Bokuto’s face in. Bokuto’s blushing -- more than he was just from slipping his tongue down Kuroo’s throat anyway -- and biting his bottom lip. There’s no way to get around it; that’s definitely Bokuto’s thumb settled heavily on the button of his pants and Bokuto’s fingers deciding whether to dip inward or go straight for the zipper.

“Hey, Kuroo,” Bokuto breathes. It sounds like he’s trying hard to keep his voice steady, but Kuroo can hear the smallest hint of insecurity in it. “Wanna do it?”

“Um. Later?” Kuroo suggests uncomfortably. He doesn’t have any problems going forward -- in theory. But if Kuroo’s being honest with himself, it hasn’t quite sunken in that he’s _kissing_ Bokuto, let alone that Bokuto is open to more. A part of him, the silly part that taunts any couple that spouts a cringe-worthy romantic line in a movie, wants to enjoy Bokuto every step of the way. They’re only first years; eventually they’ll have to think about university and living together and how they’re going to pay the bills, but for now, this is enough. “Kinda wanna keep kissing you. And we have forever, so…?”

Kuroo sees the hint of disappointment in Bokuto’s face but his boyfriend bites back his lips and his eyebrows dip sharply in resolve. The fingertips edging into his jeans release and Bokuto’s lips are curved in a smile when he kisses Kuroo again. “Yeah. Later’s good. We have all the time in the world.”


	2. arcade date; rated all

****Officially, the arcade is the best date _ever_ , but honestly every date is the best date ever when you happen to be dating the biggest (but most handsome, sexiest, funniest, most wonderfulest) loser in the world: Kuroo Tetsurou. A.K.A. Dumpster Cat, A.K.A. Sex on Legs, A.K.A. Bokuto’s Property Do Not Touch.

The point of the matter is: the arcade  _rocks_. All the lights and buzzing sounds are just the perfect amount to keep Bokuto’s attention, Kuroo hasn’t let go of his hand once (even when they played air hockey!!!), and five minutes ago Kuroo bought cotton candy just for Bokuto and Bokuto alone, which is like ten times the amount of sugar Kuroo usually allows him. Bokuto leans his sugar-stained mouth and cheeks on Kuroo’s shoulder with a happy grin, wiggling in place as Kuroo plays his dumb-but-looks-less-dumb-when-it’s-Kuroo-playing-it retro Centipede game. “I love the arcade.”

“I love  _you_ ,” Kuroo says as his little spaceship explodes, and Bokuto gasps dramatically as Kuroo loads another token into the machine after his spaceship explodes.

“I love you more!”

“Well I love you most!”

“I love you most plus infinity!” Bokuto huffs, jumping on Kuroo and kissing his boyfriend’s neck so hard that crumbles of sugar fall down his shirt and Kuroo’s back. Kuroo tastes like sunshine, hotness, and  _sugar_.

Kuroo wiggles beneath Bokuto’s mouth while squeaking, ‘Uncle! Uncle!’ but his little spaceship just explodes again. Kuroo purses his lips sourly at the screen. “Aww, I lost.”

“But you won  _me_ ,” Bokuto says proudly, puffing out his chest.

“Is that  _really_ winning~?” Kuroo teases, but he kisses away Bokuto’s shocked expression and shakes the owl plush he won for Bokuto earlier. “Of course I’m kidding. Now go be a good boyfriend and win me a stuffed teddy. I want a matching cat or whatever.”


	3. feeling pretty; rated m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back at it again with [the cheesy art](https://asses-in-slacks.tumblr.com/post/163006795123/the-prettiest-bokuto-more-20-minute-sketches)! coincidentally, this bokuroo is part of her sugar daddy au. bokuto and kuroo are rivals to lovers that eventually both have a thing for bokuto in panties.

“Let’s see what you’re hiding beneath there,” Kuroo teases, flinging away the tie he unwrapped from Bokuto’s neck. It lands somewhere on a bookcase filled with titles Kuroo knows Bokuto’s never read in his life, but they’re pretty enough, just like Bokuto.

“You wanna see my _panties?”_ Bokuto teases, wiggling his hips as Kuroo fumbles with the button of his designer slacks. They’re a charcoal that’s far too strict for the exuberance that is Bokuto, but that’s why Kuroo can’t wait to get Bokuto out of them.

“Yeah,” Kuroo agrees without preamble, pulling at the pants so hard that Bokuto’s body presses against his. Bokuto’s hard-on is already pressing through a pant leg at Kuroo, Bokuto like an excited child who can’t be discreet at the promise of a present. Because Kuroo’s an ass and knows it and loves the way Bokuto gets riled up, he adds, “wanna see that pretty bra of yours too.”

Bokuto lets out a moan that’s high and quick, as brilliant and bright as Bokuto himself, and Bokuto’s entire body squeezes around him, leaving little to the imagination of just what he’s wearing. “I’m not wearing a bra.”

“Oh?”

“Oh,” Bokuto echoes back cheekily. He’s always been pretty aggressive, especially when bringing his secret kink into play, and Bokuto rolls them over so that Kuroo’s on his back, pushing his chest out in silent command for Kuroo to undress him. “C’mon, hurry up already. Wanna fuck you.”

“Who says I won’t be the one fucking you, huh?” Kuroo asks with a bit of sauciness from their leftover rivalry, though he can tell Bokuto’s into it from the way he pushes his hips against Kuroo’s thigh, grinding impatiently against him. They hadn’t lost that edge that started this entire thing; if anything there was -- something, a feeling, an itch beneath Kuroo’s skin he couldn’t quite scratch, and it’s only grown and festered like an ugly sore.

And it only grows, especially when he’s looking down at Bokuto like this, Bokuto’s pink tongue slowly dragging against the seam of his upper lip and golden eyes watching him like a predator about to catch its prey. “Pretty sure it’ll be me fucking you.”

“We’ll see about that,” Kuroo says with a lavish display of snapping Bokuto’s first button off. His fingers linger and Kuroo tries to tell himself Bokuto is more affected by his display of bravado than Kuroo is by the way Bokuto’s throat bobs beneath his fingers.

Bokuto wiggles out of his button-up as best he can as Kuroo unlaces each clasp, as sharp and quick as though he were slowly dragging a knife down Bokuto’s chest and popping off the buttons one-by-one. He’s sure to keep the shirt pressed together, wanting to fully unwrap his present with gusto, and for once Bokuto’s holding himself back from literally breaking out of his clothes to show off whatever lacey lingerie he’s hiding under there.

“Let’s see what Santa brought me this year,” Kuroo jokes as he pulls apart Bokuto’s shirt. He nearly gasps, but he swallows it down at the last moment, eyes trained on the very obvious frilly thing Bokuto’s wearing.

“Nothing, since you were on the naughty list,” Bokuto corrects. His patience has worn out and he yanks off and throws away the shirt, his pants quickly following, as he pushes onto both knees and pushes Kuroo up and back down by the chest, his back now pinned at the foot of Bokuto’s impressive bed. “Lucky for you, you’re on my nice list.”

With Bokuto on top like this, Kuroo can watch the babydoll that Bokuto had tucked into his pants flutter around down to his hips. It’s an obnoxious lacey thing like all of Bokuto’s favorite sexy playthings were, trimmed in a pearl scalloped lace that danced around his thighs like it was fucking made for him.

Bokuto presses one palm on either side of Kuroo’s head, looming over him so that the shadows dance over the peeks of skin beneath the lace and the dark spot where Bokuto’s cock is leaking through his cream panties. “You like?”

 _“I like,”_ Kuroo confirms in a thick voice, both legs wrapped around Bokuto’s waist so that the babydoll drapes over his thighs and stomach.

Bokuto pulls himself out of his panties just enough to free his cock he’s about to line himself up with Kuroo, who swallows, so ready for it, but Bokuto hesitates. Realizing himself, Bokuto lines up properly but Kuroo reaches out to still his wrist. While brushing aside some hair out of Bokuto’s forehead and tucking the longer ends that don’t stick out behind his ear, Kuroo asks, “what is it?”

Bokuto’s cheekbones are soft and rosy and he’s looking away, but he glances back to Kuroo, looking as vulnerable as the first time he revealed his kink for wearing clothes assigned to women. “I feel pretty.”

“You _are_ pretty.” Kuroo says, though ‘pretty’ doesn’t even begin to cover how Bokuto looks.

“Yeah, I know, but.” Bokuto trails off, biting his lower lip. He leans down to kiss Kuroo far more chastely than any of their previous kisses, and Kuroo moans softly at the way Bokuto’s nails drag down his bare thighs. “I _feel_ pretty when I’m with you.”


	4. mr. right, rated t

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part of a 20min telephone challenge! [quincy](https://q195-arts.tumblr.com) made some [beautiful art here](https://q195-arts.tumblr.com/post/162688117508/the-results-of-tonights-artist-writer-telephone) of this prompt!

“Oya? Super hot guy’s back,” Kuroo says, whistling as he taps through the list of guys looking to hook up. Thank the lord for Grindr. “Where are you and your delicious abs?”

Kuroo looks up from his phone and glances around to see if he can place the owner of that 8-pack, but nobody seems hot enough to be the owner of those abs he’d like to lick. Kuroo looks back to his phone and clicks on the image of the muscles he’s been lusting over for going on three weeks.

The profile is mostly empty, save for the position -- vers top -- and a lone “jock” in the tribe. Whoever Mr. Abs is, he’s looking for: friends, relationship, and right now.

As it so happens, Kuroo is also looking for all three of those things, so he clicks on the abs he’d like to bite and shoots the guy a message.

 **[From: BlackCat69]** i could be your mr. right and your mr. right now.  
 **[From: MeatMeatMeat]** haha sounds good. got a pic?

Kuroo bites his bottom lip, both relieved that his beefcake messaged back so quickly and concerned about actually showing a picture of himself. Kuroo had always been discreet when it came to using the app, and he’s not sure how he feels about sharing a picture of himself to a complete stranger, even if the stranger is hotter than hot, dripping chocolate on a summer day. The desire for those abs wins out, and Kuroo ends up quietly lifting his shirt and sending back a picture of his chest and arms.

 **[From: BlackCat69]** HeySexy.jpg  
 **[From: MeatMeatMeat]** nice :)  
 **[From: MeatMeatMeat]** ur hot too. play a sport?  
 **[From: BlackCat69]** volleyball  
 **[From: MeatMeatMeat]** woa me too!!!!!! we should totally hook up!!!

Kuroo feels his heart flutter at the quick proposal, not that Kuroo was looking for anything less. His destined lover, MeatMeatMeat, rapidly closes the gap between them, and Kuroo bites his bottom lip. He looks up, hopefully scanning the crowds for anybody who looks like they might eat three tons of meat a day or have wonderful abs.

 **[From: BlackCat69]** sure where u at???

“Hey, hey, hey!”

“Shit,” Kuroo gasps, closing the app and bringing up a bubble shooter game. It’s perfect timing, Bokuto crashing into him and stealing his phone.

“You still play this game? Nerd.”

“Whatever, it kills time,” Kuroo says defensively, his eyes narrowing as Bokuto looks at the crowd passing by. “What are you doing here anyway?”

Bokuto shrugs. “Just hanging out. Listen, you haven’t seen a guy with a great chest, have you? Like, I don’t mean just nice, I mean _ripped.”_

“Nah. Haven’t seen a guy with incredible abs, have you?”

“Nope,” Bokuto says a bit disappointedly, taking a seat next to Kuroo on the bench.

Kuroo pockets his phone as Bokuto mimicks his longing sigh and begins to scan the crowds beside him. Oh well. Maybe Kuroo would get to meet Mr. MeatMeatMeat someday.


	5. two alphas; rated m

“What ‘cha gonna do, Kuroo?” Bokuto taunts. _“Knot me?”_

“Yeah, I’m gonna knot you,” Kuroo promises, attempting to lick his lips even though he only really manages to lick the sharps of his canines. “Gonna stuff that tight ass of yours with my knot until you scream on it.”

“Not if I knot you first,” Bokuto shoots back. There’s a bit of a twang in his tone to stress his pun, which only makes the darks of Kuroo’s eyes grow wider and the whites of his teeth brighter in a smile. “C’mon, _alpha.”_

Kuroo’s had as much of banter as he can stomach this close to his rut and he launches himself at Bokuto on the padded room they’ve rented for the remainder of both of their respective ruts. Normally a seedy place like this was intended only for sexual escapades between unmated alphas and omegas, but it wasn’t as though the proprietor was about to refuse good money from two consenting and paying alphas. Because that’s what they were, even if the rest of the world didn’t understand their carnal need for each other, the need to bite each other’s necks bloody during rut or fight until one pinned the other into submission. It’s not for everybody, but what everybody thinks has never been a priority for Kuroo.

Nor has it been for Bokuto, who growls ferally at the way Kuroo pins his body to the padded floor. Bokuto kicks him back and lunges until he has Kuroo pressed against a cushioned wall that smells like a mixture of past alphas’ seeds, the slick of hundreds of omegas who have used this room before, and, more importantly, the smell of their intermixed ruts. It’s not humid like an omega in heat; it’s dry and spicy, like being stranded in a desert for too long.

But none of that matters with Bokuto pressed up against him, where Kuroo’s scratching and pushing away the hands motioning for his ass. Feeling boxed in and enticed by the smell of his mate’s rut, Kuroo shoves forward and clamps his teeth into the patch of skin he’s scarred over the years; a bond mark will never form between them, but they’ve never needed a mark to bond.

Bokuto’s scream is delicious on Kuroo’s tongue, his pulse and the way his throat clenches around Kuroo’s teeth flexing in his mouth. The other alpha laps at the newly formed mark and takes the moment to push Bokuto off and down. Bokuto recovers quickly, taking Kuroo aback by literally heatbutting him, but it just makes them both dizzy with anticipation.

As the assailant, Bokuto has the upperhand, and he places a twin mark to Kuroo’s on the other alpha’s neck. Kuroo throws his head back screaming from how _hard_ Bokuto bites down, as unrelenting as the way Bokuto attempts to push him down, but Kuroo doesn’t go down without a fight, never has.

Kuroo struggles as he always does whenever they perform this monthly weekend brawl. Bokuto’s strong, one of the things Kuroo loves about him, especially when they’re bulging from struggling to resist Kuroo’s strength or alpha dominance, but Kuroo goes down willingly, just enough fight to please them both. It’s Bokuto’s turn and he knows it well, as does his dripping cock.

They’re both stupidly prepared for taking a knot neither of their bodies is ready for, prepped before Bokuto’s overwhelmingly spicy scent began to stink up the air, but they switch who gets dibs every month, and Kuroo knows he’s first. “Want this alpha knot?”

“Want this alpha knot,” Bokuto agrees, sinking down onto Kuroo dick and throwing his head back better than any omega could ever do.


	6. hero's come back; rated t

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> accompanied by [this stunning cosplay doodle](https://omegas-mmm.tumblr.com/post/164917842576/omegas-m-surprising-cosplay-encounter-at-an) by the fantastically creative [facial](https://omegas-mmm.tumblr.com)!

“Oh my god, he’s  _so_ hot,” Bokuto breathes, fixing the dark blue Konoha Village headband tied around his forehead. The headband’s beginning to slip down his forehead from how much he’s sweating, palms just as slick in pushing up the band to his bright yellow wig. Bokuto lets out a little whimper, ducking his chin into the fuzzy collar around his neck, trying to hide. “Have you ever seen a Sasuke as hot as that one?”

“Only fifty since we entered the con,” Shirofuku teases. She didn’t bother buying a wig or dyeing her hair, her reddish brown hair loosely pushed behind her ears by her headband and her bangs pushed forward. There’s minimal effort in her cosplay, nothing like the rich fabrics Bokuto bought and spent hours patterning at his sewing machine, but he doesn’t mind; he’s happy she even decided to come with him. “Are you sure he’s the hottest one?”

“I’m sure,” Bokuto says, nodding. He feels like he’s just in the show, except instead of Naruto making heart eyes at Sakura, he’s Naruto making heart eyes at Sasuke. (Which, honestly, Bokuto had read quite a number of good fics about that, which made his dick hard and his ass feel funny, and sometimes he did draw Sasuke holding Naruto’s hand and kissing him deeply in his notes whenever he was bored in class, but that’s a matter for another day.) “He’s the hottest. And he’s _perfect.”_

“Well, go talk to him!” Shirofuku says, patting her buddy on the back and pushing him toward the other cosplayer.

Before Bokuto can wimp out, he’s pushed right into Super-Hot-Sasuke-Cosplay-Guy, who doesn’t even say a word before breaking out into a ninjutsu pose. Bokuto immediately responds, letting out a mighty ninja cry as he moves into one of Naruto’s signature poses, and the Super-Awesome-Sasuke-Hot-Guy responds in kind.

There’s a soft lull of camera phone clicks all around them as they continue to yell out moves from their beloved show and slip into new poses, but eventually the Sasuke guy stops to introduce himself, holding out a hand. “I’m Kuroo. But you can call me Sasuke.”

“Bokuto. I think you know who I am,” Bokuto teases back, clasping back Hot Sasuke/Hot Kuroo’s hand.

“Yeah,” Sasuke says, and with a wink as he pulls Bokuto against his chest, Kuroo leans against his lips and whispers, “how about we recreate the most popular moment in the anime’s history?”

Bokuto’s mind goes blank and the tidal wave of fan-girl squeals drown out as Kuroo’s lips press against his. The kiss between Naruto and Sasuke didn’t used to be his favorite, but now it definitely is.


	7. keeping quiet; rated e

“Take it easy!” Bokuto says, holding his hands up and squirming on the futon Kuroo’s pushed him down to. It’s only their second-year at Shinzen and they still need to be quiet, so Kuroo presses his hand against Bokuto’s mouth to muffle the oncoming: “My ass is sensitive!”

“It’s not your ass I’m gonna suck on,” Kuroo promises, a hint breathless as the glimmer in his eye sharpens, “if you stay _quiet."_

Kuroo tilts his head in question, which Bokuto returns with a full-hearted nod, eyes wide and dark with want just beneath Kuroo’s palm. Kuroo squeezes those cheeks that haven’t quite outgrown their baby fat a final time before releasing him, gazing down in question to sense out Bokuto’s reaction. Bokuto only swallows, albeit thickly enough to hear, when Kuroo brushes his thumb against Bokuto’s cheek, but Bokuto nods again silently, taking Kuroo’s wrist into his hand and dragging it down his body.

It makes the other boy hum just loudly enough for the two of them to hear as he presses his knees against the inside of the ace’s thighs, as if to wordlessly demand, ‘spread them.’ Bokuto obeys and Kuroo can’t help but feel a swell in his chest. If Bokuto actually manages to _be quiet_ this time, then it’s going to be a _lot_ of fun. “Remember: quiet.”

“I _am_ quiet!” Bokuto protests in a loud whisper, but he immediately snaps his mouth shut at the nasty glare Kuroo sends him. Bokuto whines as quietly as he can, aiming for any friction against the fingers Kuroo’s lightly ghosting, fondling over the bulge between his thighs. He clenches his eyes shut in the way he always does when he’s about to break down begging, but nothing comes out this time.

Satisfied, Kuroo slinks down between Bokuto’s thighs and wastes no time with pulling off his gym shorts and underwear in one go. Bokuto nearly screeches out loud but he claps both hands against his mouth, his body arching and squirming in place of his words. It only makes Kuroo grin wider, deliberately trailing his fingertips up and down the inside of Bokuto’s padded thighs in a way he knows is leaving prickled skin beneath the fabric. It works well enough for Kuroo; he’s always had a thing for Bokuto’s uniform anyway.

“Remember,” Kuroo breathes, only a single breath away from Bokuto’s dick, “no matter what, you don’t make a sound.”

Bokuto’s body twists but he’s nodding furiously, and that’s all the prompting Kuroo needs before he takes the base of Bokuto’s cock in both hands and tentatively kisses the head. Bokuto groans and bucks beneath him, but Kuroo’s hands steady him on the futon, leaving Bokuto’s upper half and his legs thrashing as Kuroo licks along the individual veins of Bokuto’s cock, all the way down to the dark, silver hairs right there at the base. Bokuto’s toes stretch and his thighs still when Kuroo takes a firm bite at the little sliver of skin peeking just above Bokuto’s thigh highs, a muffled, _“hnnnngh,”_ loud enough to gently echo off the classroom walls Fukuroudani is sleeping in this year.

“Wouldn’t want your team to see you like this,” Kuroo reminds, kissing halfway up Bokuto’s cock and then licking the rest of the way with the flat of his tongue dragging up the shaft, taking the entire head in when he gets to the tip and downing it, tongue swirling around the slit. Kuroo notes, with some satisfaction, how Bokuto’s cock leaks with precum at the murmur of chatter and the sound of what could be a hand on the door leading to Fukuroudani’s room.

Kuroo takes the moment to down Bokuto’s cock as much as he can and _swallows_ , hoping that whoever enters will see Bokuto arch off the futon so much that only his head and the heels of his feet push against the fabric. Bokuto’s cock throbs impossibly harder in his mouth when the door jiggles, a whimpered but muffled moan passing through his lips.

Whoever it is, they release the door handle and the chatter fades away, even though Bokuto had screamed silently, and Kuroo releases Bokuto’s dick with a pop, smearing some escaped saliva off his lips with the back of his hand.

“Or maybe,” Kuroo says, a voice a bit hoarse from trying to down Bokuto’s cock. He kisses the tip of his cock and fondles Bokuto’s dick against his cheek, fondling his balls with one hand and lazily stroking his cock with the other as his looks across Bokuto’s rippling abs and chest to the already ruined face of Fukuroudani’s ace. “You _want_ to get caught?”

Bokuto, playing along, doesn’t answer, but the airy, hitched moan he lets out is evidence enough.


	8. two omegas; rated e

“Heats are such a pain in the ass,” Kuroo complains fondly as he double checks the locked windows. Shutting both the blinds and the curtains, he feels his heart flutter. Despite his complaint he’s looking forward to his and Bokuto’s shared heat. It’s been awhile since Bokuto was the first to show symptoms, and Kuroo had always liked being the one to react to the overwhelmingly cloy scent that his boyfriend emitted during his special time of the month. Besides it’s always easier this way, Kuroo’s instinct rousing the urge to prepare for his mate’s heat and to protect the little apartment he and Bokuto call home. 

Speaking of the devil, Bokuto runs back into their shared bedroom and hops on the couch, all grins and short, labored breaths that began an hour ago. Kuroo face him only after turning on their dehumidifier and air purifier; one omega in heat was enough to invade an entire home, let alone two. “All locked up?”

“Yup, and stuffed draft stoppers under all the doors just in case,” Bokuto says, already wiggling out of his soaked pants and laying himself out on their bed. “Turned up the air up in case.”

“Good thing, it feels like a sauna in here already.”

“Dunno about that but I’m wet like one,” Bokuto points out, lifting up a leg. A droplet of his slick slowly dribbles down the inside of his thigh in a lavish display that calls for Kuroo to lick it dry, but he miraculously remains in place.

With the last of his sanity intact, Kuroo looks over their nightstands filled with snacks and water for the hours they’ll be unable to prepare any meals for themselves and a basket of their favorite knotted vibrators, double-sided dildos, and knot pumps at the foot of the bed. It’s getting harder to resist Bokuto’s attractive scent, but he doesn’t want to forget anything like the last time Kuroo went into heat first and Bokuto forgot to close the blinds. Bokuto may enjoy exhibitionism, but Kuroo’s instincts feel the need to keep their lovemaking private from wandering eyes. He counts off his mental checklist on his fingers and finally nods. “Looks like we’re all ready then.”

“Yessss,” Bokuto exhales gleefully, practically humping their comforter. 

It’s not like Kuroo’s in a much better state: he pulls off the boxers that are beginning to stick to him from sweat and slick and joins his naked boyfriend on their bed, scooping him into his arms. “How you wanna do it this time?”

No sooner than held, Bokuto gives into his instincts and begins to scent Kuroo, though it’s mutual. Their room couldn’t possibly smell more of mixture of Kuroo’s dark chocolate and Bokuto’s cotton candy scents, but when they’re in heat, it’s almost like Kuroo can taste the candy sugar when he breathes. Bokuto’s mouth tastes like warm caramel and melting strawberry hard candies when he kisses Kuroo, and it’s so thick and sweet that Kuroo has a bit of trouble breathing. “Wanna six-nine for a bit.” 

“Then the knots?” Kuroo teases, licking along the fresh bite mark he’d placed on Bokuto’s neck a few days ago. 

The slick that’s already rolling down Bokuto’s thighs tremor against Kuroo’s when he shivers, smearing from grinding against each other. He pushes Kuroo off, body spasming at a single mention of the k-word. “Cut it out or I’ll come right now!” 

“You’re going to be doing a lot of that,” Kuroo reminds, though he’s already moving into place, allowing Bokuto to help guide his legs into a comfortable position for them both. 

“Yeah, but I’ll want a knot,” Bokuto whispers before teasing the tip of his tongue from the curve of Kuroo’s asscheek all the way up to his hole. Kuroo’s body clenches and quakes beneath Bokuto’s hot tongue and the press of his lips right on his twitching rim. “And all I want right now is your taste all over my face.” 

“O-Okay. _Yes,”_ Kuroo agrees, immediately hoisting one of Bokuto’s thighs over his ear and shoving his face against the layer of silky slick practically dripping out of Bokuto by now. The smell of their room is nothing compared to the scent between his legs. One inhale is intoxicating enough, a mix of Bokuto’s sugary sweetness and the salty twinge that promises sex. Kuroo licks the slick clean from his mate’s balls down to his entrance, which easily accepts Kuroo’s tongue and two fingers without any prompting. Bokuto’s body is always pliant during heat, and now is no exception, his ass practically pulling Kuroo inside as if it had its own gravitational force. 

He knows Bokuto’s body, like his own, feels like it’s a frenzy of fire waiting for release, but their actions are slow and unhurried. It’s best like this, they know, searing tongues lapping at flesh, hot breaths cooling the layer of wetness against their skin, and soft trembles from delicately petting the velvety walls inside of them with their mouths and hands. Each roll of Bokuto’s tongue against Kuroo’s sweet spot hits him like a tidal wave crashing against the shore, intense and pulling him back into the depths of pleasure, lingering like the smell of salt by the sea. Bokuto’s teeth graze against his rim just as his fingers brush against that spot that makes Kuroo scream Bokuto’s name into a kiss, and with his mouth pressed against Bokuto, he moans into his boyfriend. A ripple of heat whips through Kuroo’s veins and he gasps against the tremble of Bokuto’s hips that matches his own, both of them drowning in the first of their many mutual orgasms of the night.


	9. that's spanish!; rated t

“Gonna-- nngh, _Kuroo.”_

“I know, I know. I got you,” Kuroo whispers against Bokuto’s skin. He speeds up the pace he has along Bokuto’s cock until Bokuto’s breathing heavily in time with Kuroo’s hand knocking against the soft hairs at the base of Bokuto’s cock. Each stroke tugs out a delicious moan out of his boyfriend, who thrashes and arches beneath the unrelenting pace chasing release.

Bokuto tightens those divine thighs around Kuroo’s waist and digs the heels of his feet against Kuroo’s tailbone to fuck him impossibly deeper. He bares his throat in that perfect way only Bokuto can manage, thighs quivering, stomach flexing, and arms wrapping around Kuroo as if to bury himself around Kuroo for life. It’s the just the right angle for Kuroo to press his lips, right below Bokuto’s pulse point. It’s there that he breathes when he comes, whispering, _“chalupa.”_

-

Kuroo’s eyes are wide open from the moment the word leaves his lips right until his heart steadies from his orgasm. Bokuto didn’t say anything, so Kuroo’s fairly sure that he didn’t notice, or that if he did, it’s no big deal, just like everything between them has always been. He settles into the mattress calmed by that thought.

Besides, Bokuto’s fingers brushing through his bangs, Bokuto’s soft nuzzling against his shoulder, and the way Bokuto spoons him with every fiber of love in his body is too perfect for Kuroo to focus on anything stupid, like saying a beloved Mexican food dish instead of his boyfriend’s name when he orgasmed.

“I love you,” Bokuto whispers. He places a single kiss on the curve of Kuroo’s shoulder, where his collarbone connects. Bokuto traces the curve of Kuroo’s skin with his lips, inhaling deeply at his throat, and peeks over Kuroo’s chin, only enough that his silver eyelashes and golden eyes flutter lovingly at him. _“Chalupa.”_

Kuroo smile freezes and he has to force himself to breathe.

Bokuto, bless his heart, mistakes the reaction as one of delightful surprise. He laughs against Kuroo’s face and kisses him sweetly and softly. “That’s Spanish for, ‘I love you,’ right? You’re so romantic.”

Kuroo’s options are between breaking Bokuto’s heart and getting more A+ kisses from Bokuto, so he does the sensible thing and kisses Bokuto back. “Right, babe. _Chalupa.”_

-

“Chalupa,” Bokuto says tenderly, right before kissing Kuroo on the cheek. He grins widely and can’t stop himself from nuzzling his boyfriend just a little bit afterward, too overcome with love.

Kuroo blushes, and it’s not altogether from embarrassment. He sees the way Yaku’s eyebrow is arched judgmentally, even though Kuroo could do the exact same thing to Yaku for holding Lev’s hand at this very second. “Y-Yeah, chalupa!”

“Is that an, ‘always’?” Lev asks Yaku, who just rolls his eyes and drags Lev away.

“No, it’s idiotspeak for, ‘I love you.’”

“Oh, then chalupa!” Lev pipes back immediately.

Bokuto’s too busy fisting his hands in Kuroo’s shirt, seemingly unconscious by the way his upper lip is curling the way it always does when he’s upset at Kuroo for blocking his spikes. “Look at them stealing our romantic thing. It’s really pissing me off!”

Kuroo knows a bit of affection can go a long way, especially when it comes to redirecting Bokuto’s moods, and so he bumps his nose against Bokuto, who very enthusiastically bumps his nose back.

-

“Aaaah!!” Bokuto yells out loud, once the four of them are seated at the table. He’s about to rip the plastic menu in his hands from how hard he’s holding onto it and stabbing his finger against the #15: Chalupa Suprema. (Served with rice and beans.)

Damn it. Kuroo _knew_ they shouldn’t have gone out for Mexican. Now the cat is out of the bag and he’d have to explain--

“Kuroo! Look at this! They named an item after our undying love!”

“Chalupa, baby,” Kuoo agrees. He kisses Bokuto chastely on the mouth, smiling a bit too widely and blushing a little too hard to do it properly. He’d go the rest of his life saying, ‘chalupa,’ instead of, ‘I love you,’ if it meant kissing Bokuto like this every single time. Some day he’ll have to tell Bokuto the truth, but today is not that day.


	10. gogo dancer; rated m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another drabble to accompany a [cheesy](https://cheesyshenanigans.tumblr.com/) scrib! [check it out over here](https://asses-in-slacks.tumblr.com/post/162890107838/o-shit-waddup-the-result-of-some-intense-20-min), i'm sure you can guess which pic this one is for.

_“Please_ tell me we aren’t going to another gay club,” Kuroo moans as he tries to hop into the tightest pair of skinny jeans he owns. “What’s the point when you already have a boyfriend anyway?”

“To get you one, obviously,” Oikawa quips back, wiggling into equally tight booty shorts. Kuroo rolls his eyes and wonders who Oikawa’s trying to impress.

-

They go to a new place this time, a club called Fukuroudani that’s known for its strong drinks and ace playlist. Kuroo can’t disagree after one sex on the beach, although he’d much rather be doing that than drinking that right about now. He sucks at the straw and watches the gogo dancers twist away in their cages, bodies contorting as neon light bounces off of them and the disco ball hanging in the center of the club. He doesn’t know where Oikawa or Iwaizumi made off to, but he can only imagine that they’re dancing much like the gogo boys.

“Want another?” the quiet bartender, a guy with hair fluffier than Matsukawa, asks, but Kuroo shakes his head.

“Nah, but I want another one of those shots that come into in the vials. The neon ones that glow under the blacklight?” Kuroo asks for, gesturing the shape with his hands.

The bartender shakes his head back and looks out to the crowd, directing Kuroo with his eyes. “The servers are the only ones who give those out. Bokuto-san should be out on the dancefloor right now.”

Sighing heavily, Kuroo slams his empty fruity drink on the bar and nods in thanks. Off to the dancefloor it is, though it’s the last place he’d like to be. The thing is: Kuroo can get an awesome sex on the beach at any club. Those shots? Fukuroudani specialty. And damn it if he’s not going to get sloshed on them.

It doesn’t take long to find “Bokuto-san.” After all, Kuroo just has to follow the loud cheering in the opposite direction of where Oikawa’s pouting, probably from somebody being more popular than himself for once. Kuroo doesn’t care; he just wants a _shot_.

What he finds himself faced with is so much more than a shot though. Bent over a table so that his thighs are spread and his chest is arced is what Kuroo can immediately tell is Bokuto-san. He’s bare chested with booty shorts even tighter than Oikawa’s, glitter on every inch of skin that isn’t clothed, making him sparkle like gold. But more importantly, there’s a platter of neon shots in his hand and a guy licking a pink shot off the server’s stomach.

“I’m buying what remains of this round!” Oikawa screeches, suddenly appearing at Kuroo’s side and pushing him forward.

There’s some cheering as Kuroo finds himself between the hot server’s legs, the guy not moving from where he’s practically laying on the table. It’s only now that Kuroo notices that he has a thick wad of singles stuck in his booty shorts, for which Iwaizumi sneakily slips him a ten dollar bill. “Hi.”

“Hey!” The guy doesn’t look fazed, merely gesturing to him with a come hither gesture of his finger. “You next? Alright, here you go.”

Kuroo accepts the neon purple shot the hot server passes to him, but his brain short circuits and he doesn’t know what to do with it. It doesn’t seem to bother the server, who just laughs and yanks the wrist holding his shot forward, spilling it over his abs. Kuroo watches the purple alcohol spill down chiseled abs, now needing the drink because his throat is dry and he’s thirsty as fuck.

“Hurry up, Kurocchi!” Oikawa cheers, smacking his back, and Kuroo steadies his hands over slim hips, tongue dragging up a sparkly happy trail, over the curve of the most perfect stomach he’s ever licked, and lapping the alcohol out of the dip of the server’s glittery stomach.

Kuroo looks up and watches the server’s tongue peek out between his lips. Suddenly he finds his palm pushed against the guy’s junk, the server dragging up what is clearly a huge dick to the hem of his booty shorts to slip the bill in Kuroo’s hand between the fabric and his skin.

“That’s one,” Bokuto says, smirking cockily. He passes over a neon blue shot to Kuroo this time and Kuroo thinks he might just be a little in love. “Drink it off my chest this time, big boy.”


	11. anti-romance; rated t

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part of a 20min telephone round inspired by music. i chose ['pulled' from the addams family musical](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UaTGK7mpijY)!

Tetsurou doesn’t believe in romance. Valentine’s Day is just another way companies line their pockets, all those red hearts and sparkly teddy bears nothing more than a dollar bill sign slapped on them. Anniversaries are just another day, and public displays of affection are both distasteful and obnoxious. Romance movies make him laugh, and every love song is exactly the same, just played to a different tune. 

Yes, Tetsurou doesn’t believe in romance, which is why he can’t, for the life of him, understand _why_ the little pink owl sitting on a display in Seiyu is tugging at his heartstrings. He picks it up, frowns at it, and gives it a squeeze. Before the owl can finish peeping out a recorded, ‘you’re a _hoot!’_ Tetsurou tosses it into his shopping cart. (And by tosses, he means reverently places it on top of all the other items, where it won’t be crushed. Koutarou wouldn’t like a crushed owl.)

-

“This is so cute!” Koutarou gushes, hugging the pink owl to his chest. “Can I call him Tetsurou Jr.?”

Tetsurou’s so lost in love and affection watching Koutarou kiss the top of the small owl’s head that he barely remembers to react. “I don’t know why you’d want to do that, but yeah. He’s yours, after all.”

“Cool. He’s our son now!” Koutarou announces proudly, propping the owl on the their nightstand. Not even bothering to rearrange the pillows, Koutarou spreads his thighs and a makes a come hither wiggle with his fingers. “Now c’mere, papa Kuroo.”

Naturally, Tetsurou lets out a breath and follows. He may not be into romantic gestures, but Koutarou is head over heels for them. Yeah, that’s the only reason he bothered with the owl, he reassures himself, claiming Koutarou’s lips in an indulgent kiss.

-

As a self-proclaimed romance hater, naturally the beloved V Day is his least favorite day of the year. It also happens to be the date for his and Koutarou’s dating _and_ wedding anniversaries. (Koutarou had nearly eaten the ring Tetsurou had asked the restaurant to hide in the chocolate cake, but after performing the Heimlich maneuver in front of at least fifty guests and proposing with all the restaurant’s eyes on them, Koutarou cried exuberantly and said, ‘yes!’)

That was two years ago and Tetsurou knows there’s no rational reason for it, but he’s _feeling things_.

Gross things.

Like wanting to slow dance in the kitchen and dip Koutarou at the end of it. Like writing little love notes and slipping them into Koutarou’s pockets for him to discover later. Like picking the most romantic song out of the karaoke book and dedicating it to Koutarou for all to hear. Like -- oh _god,_ Tetsurou thinks to himself -- wrapping himself up in a red ribbon and declaring himself Koutarou’s present. (Tetsurou mentally gags at himself at the very thought.)

It’s not that Koutarou wouldn’t appreciate it; Koutarou _loves_ that kind of thing. But it’s not Tetsurou’s style. Tetsurou’s style is more of the everyday, mundane gestures. It’s waking up earlier than Koutarou every now and then to draw him a bath or make coffee. It’s leaving protein shakes in the fridge for Koutarou to drink after his morning workouts, when Tetsurou’s still sleeping. It’s letting Koutarou pick out the movie, even knowing that it’s going to be another b-rated, shitty monster movie. Nothing abut it screams romantic in the way Koutarou yearns for. No, Tetsurou doesn’t do romance.

-

Tetsurou watches as the heroine of this romantic comedy stutters out a confession and the best friend-cum-bad boy opens his heart in a moment of vulnerability, her leg popping up behind her as they share their first kiss. It’s so…romantic, the way the night sky comes alive and a 90s love song begins to softly play in the background. It’s gross. It’s disgusting. It’s everything Tetsurou hates. It’s…

“Babe, are you _crying?”_

“I’m not crying, you are!” Tetsurou insists, jabbing Koutarou in the ribs. It’s not _his_ fault if the love interest looks _exactly_ like Koutarou. (Minus the hair, and the face, and the biceps, and the abs, and the…)

-

Now Tetsurou _knows_ he’s going crazy, because nothing has ever made him feel this way. He’s talking about that, ‘wow, I’m so happy I lived long enough to experience this moment,’ kind of ridiculousness. Granted, there _are_ fireflies quietly flitting around the little boat he and Koutarou are stranded on in the middle of the lake, and they _are_ facing each other with their hands held, and there _is_ moonlight reflecting off Koutarou’s wide, golden eyes that Tetsurou could lose himself in forever. But there’s _no reason_ for how his heart feels like it’s beating so hard it’s going to pound out of his chest or the way his palms feel sweaty from the urge to kiss Koutarou. They’ve been married for _two years_ , plenty of time to get over feeling like he has some school crush. He blames it on high blood pressure and the humidity, even as he knows what the real reason is.

-

Tetsurou comes up with a list of ideas for their anniversary this year.

  * _Lick Kou’s favorite ice cream off his nose and give him your ice cream’s cherry_
  * _Run through the park while holding hands_
  * _Buy him a dozen roses_
  * _Make him a mixtape of all the songs that remind you of him_
  * _Kiss during the fireworks at Tokyo Disney Resort_



“Oh no,”’ Tetsurou says aloud, feeling his heart pulled in a new direction. He claps his hands over his face and moans into his palms. _“Nooooooo.”_

Like magic, Koutarou appears at his side, already petting his shoulder and rubbing Tetsurou’s back in concern. “What is it, babe?”

Tetsurou drags his hands down his face just enough to look through his fingers at his _adoring_ husband’s sincere worry, and the heat floods his cheeks. “I’m in love with you.”

Koutarou’s face melts with love, and if Tetsurou weren’t completely in love with Koutarou’s everything from the tips of his ridiculously down to his feet that stink up their bed, he wouldn’t be comparing Koutarou’s smile to a flower in bloom. Pulling away Tetsurou’s hands masking the thick blush he’s sporting, Koutarou leans in and pecks a kiss to Tetsurou’s lips, a little off center in that familiar way that Tetsurou’s been in love with since their very first kiss. “I’m in love with you too!”


	12. eggplant emoji; rated e

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic uses emoji and custom css, so it will not render with the same effect without the work skin. i used [this tutorial](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434845/chapters/14729722) to format the iOS look and emojis, if you wanna try it yourself!

Bae   
  
**Today** 1:12 PM  
**[To: Bae <3]** GET YOUR ASS TO MY PLACE.  


Bokuto barely manages to type it properly, all in capslock, before he’s stuffing his hand down his pants and taking a selfie angled by his balls, magnificently showing off how hard he gets at the mere sight of his boyfriend lifting his shirt up just above a nipple, all hard abs sore and glistening with sweat from a full day of practice. Bokuto’s hips buck up reflexively as he’s taking the selfie, but Kuroo has never been one to complain about Bokuto’s less-than-professional selfies.

Bae   
  
**Today** 1:14 PM  
**[From: Bae <3]** want another?  
**[From: Bae <3]** >:3   
**[To: Bae <3]** YESS  
**[To: Bae <3]** PLS  
**[To: Bae <3]** I NED IT  


Bokuto doesn’t care about his typos, can’t, when his hand feels like not enough around his cock, pressure tight enough and his fingers steady to tease along his cock in the way that makes his toes curl and his hands clench into fists, but it’s too rough without the right touch and his fingers aren’t long enough; he needs longer fingers, slimmer, thicker palms, the ones good for blocking. Bokuto whines, gripping at the head of his cock in small, circular motions too slow for his patience.

Bae   
  
**[To: Bae <3]**   
  


It’s not a coherent text, but it never is, never when Kuroo teased him like this. He at least managed to get the eggplants and cummies -- as Bokuto liked to call the emoji -- out before his thumb descended into a keysmash. He grabs the little bottle of lube he keeps in the nightstand ever since he and Kuroo became a thing while waiting for the next response.

Kuroo doesn’t disappoint, even if his single attachment called ScaredKitty.jpg suggests otherwise.

Bokuto moans at the sight of Kuroo taking a selfie in the gym mirror again, this time bent over to show himself pressing his ass out, legs spread. Kuroo looks divine as he tugs on one of his cheeks enough to show off the pretty pucker that’s obviously been prepped just for a certain wing spiker. 

As if that wasn’t enough, the next selfie Kuroo sends, this time titled WhatShouldIDoWithThis.jpg, shows Kuroo in the same position, except this time instead of holding his buttcheek away to show off where Kuroo’s obviously fingered himself, he’s holding his favorite buttplug and grinning over his shoulder, the tip of the plug teasing against his bottom lip. Bokuto’s eyes focus on that single detail, as he messily drops lube all over himself, only vaguely aiming for his cock, too concerned with memorizing the shape of Kuroo’s lips and his asscheeks.

An incoming Facetime call from  Bae  shows up and Bokuto curses as he nearly swerves on the call by accident, thumb to eager to stroke against something that isn’t the slit of his dripping cock. “I swear to god, Kuroo, you better be somewhere close.”

Kuroo’s laughter from the other side of the line is as sexy as it is warm. “Liked them that much?”

“You have no idea.”

“Well lucky you, I took those ages ago and only sent them as soon as I was close. I’m standing outside your house with a buttplug up my ass, so open up! Your parents are gone, right? Not gonna walk in on us like last time? By the way, like the nickname I gave myself?” his boyfriend asks, cheekily referring to how he changed his name in Bokuto’s contacts and autocorrect.

“Yes. No. And love it,” Bokuto answers Kuroo’s million questions in a second long gasp. “But not as much as I’ll love where my cock’s gonna be in the next five minutes.”


	13. it gets better; rated t

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has reference to gay-related bullying and slurs.

Bokuto wishes he had a time machine so he could go one week into the past and slap himself for thinking that after winning the nationals championship match was the time and place to come out. ‘Our school is a safe space,’ the teachers had said at rallies. ‘We promote diversity,’ the principal said in their school newspaper. ‘We care about you,’ the school counselor had said -- right before suggesting he just shut up and suffer through the next two-and-a-half years of Living Hell.

Bokuto breathes in and scrubs his locker clean of the slur painted on it for the fifth day in the row. Coach has been promising to catch whoever it is and discipline them fairly -- even though _fair_ isn’t what Bokuto wants right now -- but Bokuto’s not an idiot. He’s been benched for minor mistakes that coach paid no mind two weeks ago. Being the fourth best wing spiker in the country isn’t going to help him if coach won’t even let him play.

‘It gets better,’ beautiful and famous people assure him in the online advertisements, but apparently it only gets better if you’re not a gay jock.

As Bokuto’s wiping off the second G from his locker -- each letter written in a color of the rainbow flag today -- the resident bad boy kicks open the locker room doors and plops down on one of the wooden benches as if he hadn’t noticed Bokuto at all. Which isn’t possible, really, since it’s kind of impossible to miss a six-foot-tall athlete crying all alone.

The stranger plays with a lighter in his hand and ignores Bokuto’s existence like all of the school has been doing this past week -- except for the bullies that is -- which at least gives Bokuto some time to sniff his snot back and wipe the new, hot tears off his face before calling out to the guy. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“Who says I’m here to smoke?” the guy asks casually. The guy sparks his lighter again and then looks over his shoulder with a smirk. “Calm down. I’m not going to destroy your lungs. I just need a place to lay low for a bit.”

Bokuto glares for a good second, but it doesn’t phase the guy -- Kuroo, Bokuto thinks he’s called -- any.

Kuroo just keeps smirking, eyebrows playing wiggling at him until his eyes fall on the locker. “Wait… You’re getting bullied?”

“Gee, how could you tell?”

“But-- You’re a jock! You should be untouchable!”

“Well I’m not,” Bokuto weakly mutters, slamming his locker shut before he gets stuffed and locked into it. That’s all he’d need to finish off this exhausting week, really. He sighs and gets back to cleaning his locker, which the school said outright they couldn’t waste any resources to clean, dropping the old rag in his hands to take care of himself.

Bokuto hears Kuroo shift behind him, but he’s focusing all his energy on cleaning up the locker so he can leave school as soon as he can; it’s getting to the point where he doesn’t even _want_ to come to school anymore, but the letters on his locker keep him there even longer. This green is the absolute worst, stubbornly remaining unlike all the other colors. He scrubs at it angrily when the voice behind him, more tender than Bokuto thought Kuroo was possible, asks, “Are you, uh… Are you okay?”

“No,” Bokuto replies bluntly. He sniffs back another wave of tears threatening to spill; saying it out loud reminds him how miserable he is and how nice it is to at least say it to _anybody_ who cares enough to ask, even if it is the school delinquent.

“Hey, it’s… It gets better.” The weak attempt at comfort makes Bokuto scoff out loud. Undeterred, Kuroo wraps his arms around Bokuto’s shoulders and whispers, all hot breath and smooth voice: “I promise.”

“Oh yeah?” If Bokuto had any anger that he hadn’t burned out from crying in a locker at lunch, he’d use it to push at Kuroo. “What, everybody’s gonna watch Glee and suddenly be okay with it? I just want to play _volleyball.”_

“One thing at a time,” Kuroo whispers against the shell of Bokuto’s ear. He laughs a little, which makes Bokuto squirm against him, back pressing against the light rumble of Kuroo’s chest. “First, you’re gonna tell me who did this and I’m gonna make their life a living hell.”

Bokuto’s stiff lips wobble before he laughs out loud, allowing himself to lean back into Kuroo’s warmth and safety. He lets out a tired sigh he didn’t know he’d been carrying in his shoulders and bottling up. Looking over his shoulder up to Kuroo, he notices how _broad_ Kuroo’s shoulders are for the first time and bites his lip. “You know I’m gay, right?”

Bokuto’s heartbeat skips when Kuroo leans in, having expected Kuroo to do something ridiculous like _kiss_ him. “So what? Me too, join the club.”


	14. three minutes; rated all

“You’re not missing out on anything,” Kuroo assures, rubbing Bokuto’s back in broad up-down motions like he had been doing for the past hour.

An empty gym is an incredibly depressing sound without volleyballs and sneakers slamming against the polished floors, Bokuto decides, but it’s hours past curfew and tomorrow is another big day of training camp. Nobody would be up this late -- unless they were like Bokuto, who is staring at the timer nearing zero on his wrist. Only three minutes until he meets his soulmate.

Earlier Bokuto had been so excited to wake up. He’d even brushed his teeth after breakfast, lunch, _and_ dinner, and made sure his hair looked spikier than usual, anticipating to impress a first-year or maybe a transfer student joining the camp at Shinzen. But there were no transfer students, and none of the incoming students affected his timer. Thus he can only conclude: “It’s broken.”

“It’s not broken,” Kuroo says, but he doesn’t sound quite sure of that himself. He pats Bokuto’s back in the way Bokuto would normally love, and his palm lingers on a shoulder when Kuroo leans closer. “Seriously, nothing happens when it reaches zero. Well-- A ringing sound, but everybody knows about that.”

“Easy for you to say,” Bokuto scoffs, knowing that Kuroo’s timer has been at zero since Bokuto has known him. Even though Kuroo insists he never realized the moment he met his soulmate, Bokuto knows he’s lying because Kuroo’s face flushes guiltily every time Bokuto asks. Bokuto crosses his arms petulantly and sighs heavily. If his timer won’t go down, at least he can live vicariously through Kuroo. “What was yours like? The ringing.”

“I could barely hear it.” Kuroo’s lips purse together and then he slumps against the wall, Bokuto matching his posture. “It actually counted down the first time I stepped onto this court, did I ever tell you that?”

Bokuto hums in that noncommittal way that sounds like he’s listening, but he’s glaring at his wrist too hard to make illusions as to where his mind is. It would have been hard to make it work with a first-year, he knows, but he would have tried. Some soulmate would have been better than no soulmate. It’s hard to remain optimistic, even if Kuroo had the decency to stay up and wait with Bokuto for his mystery soulmate to arrive.

Between Bokuto’s thoughts, Kuroo goes on: “You were so loud. The moment I saw you, I couldn’t tell if the ringing was your voice in my head or the timer.”

And it’s hard to accept because Bokuto has been dreaming of this moment all his life. He imagined spying an unknown face that looked familiar in the crowd, or his chest beating rapidly when he locked eyes on the most perfect human being he’d ever seen. He fantasized about the perfect kisses, refused to hold hands with anybody that wasn’t his soulmate, wondered what this perfect person just for him would be like. The moment his timer counted down to zero was dramatic and wonderful in his mind, fireworks blasting in the background. He’d been so _sure._

“Are you listening to me, Bokuto?”

It’s not like Bokuto wants a lot. He’d put up with their dirty socks, even if they smelled worse than Kuroo’s, and he could live with it if they didn’t think owls were that cool. He just wanted somebody to be there for him, somebody he could laugh with and rely on, somebody who would remain by his side even when the moods hit and everybody else left. Frown set in place as the timer counts down the final seconds, Bokuto glances at Kuroo, not for the first time and not with fireworks blasting in the background, but the fireworks pound in his heart when he thinks, _‘oh,’_ for the first time.

_Ding!_

The sound is clear and crisp and light like a call bell sitting on a front desk. Bokuto takes a deep breath because he's looking at Kuroo, and Kuroo's the only one around, blushing back at him.


	15. all clean; rated m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning that this chapter focuses on using an enema for safer sex. ~~this chap is also about 100 words longer than 1000 words but shhh.~~

It’s official: there’s _nothing_ Bokuto won’t do for Kuroo.

Bokuto winces at the packaged enema kit in his hands, tests the way the plastic squeaks beneath his thumbs. It’s quiet in the bathroom except the crinkle of plastic and the drip, drip, drip of Kuroo’s leaky faucet. It’s unnerving and concerning, making Bokuto squirm on Kuroo’s bathroom mats and a shiver run up his spine as his toes dig into the mat’s shaggy fabric.

“Fucking Kuroo,” Bokuto mutters under his breath, knowing well enough that Kuroo can’t hear him. Kuroo’s parents are away for the weekend, which means that Kuroo is in his bedroom next door, preparing everything for their Night of Heat, Passion, and Sweaty Man Sex. So that means Kuroo’s probably dousing the bed with rose petals or queueing up a playlist with The Weeknd, Wale, and J. Cole, but all Bokuto ever wanted, needed, was the soft puff of Kuroo’s hot breath against his neck, Kuroo’s bare skin sliding against his own, and the glint of Kuroo’s teeth peeking through his parted lips.

‘Just do this one thing for me,’ Kuroo promised, ‘and I’ll take care of the rest. Anything you want for the rest of the weekend!’

At the time Bokuto had no idea that, ‘one thing,’ would actually mean, ‘give yourself an enema because I have been fantasizing about you riding my face for the past two months.’

In truth the face riding part doesn’t sound _that_ bad, but _this_ , Bokuto thinks, ripping the plastic away to assemble the little nozzle to the flexible plastic pump, is a completely different story. It’s bright purple and about the least sexiest think Bokuto can imagine, especially when he thinks of shoving the narrow black head into his ass. He tries to imagine Kuroo’s finger or even the thin, beginner toys they’d played with while working up to proper dildos, but it doesn’t work.

‘It comes with a free cock ring, so sure, let’s get it,’ Bokuto said at the time, adding the small enema package to their discreet shopping cart, which had been filled with two manga of that series Kuroo liked and a video game they both chipped in to buy for Kenma’s birthday. How Bokuto wishes he hadn’t been swayed by that free cock ring.

-

Bokuto’s not much of a reader, but you better believe he reads and follows the instructions he found online word for word. The last thing he wants to think of is something going wrong while Kuroo’s tongue is half in his ass, and so he carefully reviews the instructions pulled up on his phone:

  1. Take a shit. Check.
  2. Clean down there with warm water. Check.
  3. Fill enema pouch with room temperature water. Check.
  4. Don’t forget the lube! Bokuto unchecks that one just to check it again.
  5. Lube the tip of the enema and slide it in. Check. Bokuto had even taken the extra advice of doing it over the toilet just in case.
  6. Press down on the bulb slowly and do **not** release it. Double check. Bokuto’s not taking any chances of getting himself or Kuroo dirty.
  7. Remove the enema and let the water sit inside for about five minutes.



This is the part where Bokuto finds himself, squirming uncomfortably. He really thought it would be the inserting, but it’s the wait that feels so freaking uncomfortable. Bokuto knows there’s still the embarrassing and gross part of releasing next, but it’s the step after that makes him groan in misery:

  1. Repeat two more times.



-

There’s a soft rattle on the door, followed by Kuroo’s voice. “You okay? Need any help?”

“Yeah. I mean, no! I got it!” Bokuto yells out and tries to focus on Kuroo and not the weird feeling low in his stomach. He can picture what his insides must look like, considering all the diagrams he’s looked at in the past three days. With weird pictures in his mind and Kuroo’s concerned voice filtering in through the door, Bokuto feels too exposed. It makes him tense up, which is the last thing all the instructions said to do. “Stop listening in, you’re embarrassing me.”

“Oh- _kaaay,”_ Kuroo huffs from behind the door, “well I’m here if you need me.”

“I get it!” Bokuto squawks, willing his body to relax. He can practically feel the floor bending from where Kuroo’s shifting his weight from side to side, like he always does when he’s nervous. Bokuto runs his clean hand down his face, groaning. “I-- Thanks for checking in. I’m just. Really embarrassed right now.”

“Alright, I’ll leave you alone. See you in a bit,” Kuroo says, but Bokuto doesn’t hear Kuroo’s footsteps quietly disappear in the direction of his room. If anything, it sounds like Kuroo’s leaning his forehead against the door. “And thanks for doing this for me. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Bokuto admits weakly, nodding through one furious blush, even though Kuroo can’t see. Kuroo doesn’t say anything more, but Bokuto imagines his smile as Kuroo’s soft footsteps begin to pad away. Once Bokuto’s sure he’s gone, he moans softly to himself, equal parts frustration, awkwardness, and reluctant contentment.

-

“All clean?” Kuroo asks, tossing his phone aside the moment Bokuto leans on his bedroom door. Bokuto nods, padding toward his boyfriend and crawling onto the bed. He relaxes when Kuroo cups his jaw and leans in for a kiss, but Kuroo has none of the hesitation Bokuto feels inside. “So how was it?”

Bokuto hums as Kuroo tries to entice him into the mood with hungry yet delicate kisses. “Weird. I feel…clean.”

“That’s kinda the point,” Kuroo points out. He strokes up Bokuto’s bare side and coaxes Bokuto’s tongue into his mouth this time. After sucking on it a little bit and licking along the back of Bokuto’s teeth in just the way that makes Bokuto moan, he asks, “was it uncomfortable?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Bokuto says, pushing at Kuroo’s chest to pin him to the mattress. He takes initiative this time, biting and licking at Kuroo’s tongue. “Can we just get on with it already?”

“I just like to see you all riled up like this,” Kuroo admits, now laughing, the glint of his teeth peeking through his smile and shining in the last remains of the afternoon sunlight.

Bokuto bites his bottom lip to keep him from smiling down at his stupid, wonderful boyfriend, because all he can think is what a gorgeous laugh his boyfriend has, and his boyfriend laughing means he’s smiling, and when Kuroo smiles like that, all Bokuto can think to himself is, ‘I’m gonna sit on that smile.’


	16. hot topic; rated m

Life’s not bad, but life’s not exactly great either. Tetsurou really thought by 28, his life would involve researching the next DNA sequence that would help create designer babies or clones, but here he is blowing chewing gum bubbles (against policy), tapping his zebra-striped Doc Martens (also against policy) to the shitty screamo music playing, and leaning over the counter to read Malcolm X (that’s like three strikes against policy, but who’s counting?).

Tetsurou takes one look at the incoming tweens starting to peruse the racks and sighs, marking his reading spot with a Harry Potter bookmark he shoplifted about seven years ago. “Welcome to Hot Topic. Can I help you find anything?”

“Just browsing!” the girls giggle. They blush and titter, which is the usual reaction Tetsurou gets, considering he looks like the cool, dark, and brooding type. Honestly, fuck this bedhead of his. It’s the only thing that stands between him and a decent job.

-

There is one upside to working at the mall 40 hours, five days a week and it comes in the form of Tetsurou’s hour-long lunch break, spikey hair, and six-pack abs. Mr. Abercrombie & Fitch started working three weeks ago, and ever since then, Tetsurou waits in line at Sbarro like he does every other day, watching Mr. Abercrombie & Fitch from afar. Tetsurou’s pretty sure it’s against mall policy for his shirt to be unbuttoned _that_ low, but his manager Yukie hasn’t said anything about it, so Tetsurou isn’t about to.

Tetsurou continues to admire him today, taking a step forward every other minute as the lunch rush line dwindles. Across the food court, Mr. Abercrombie & Fitch flirts with the girl manning the organic juice bar, trying to bribe an extra egg in his power salad for free.

All in all, there’s nothing remarkable about today. Tetsurou stands in line, Mr. Abercrombie & Fitch flashes his abs, Sbarro’s pizza leaks grease through the plastic container. It’s just like any other day.

Except that Mr. Abercromie & Fitch looks his way.

Their eyes meet only for a second, but it’s all Tetsurou needs to feel the shame creep up to his ears. He looks away, charging the last $8 on his card until next payday, snatching his pizza, and running back to Hot Topic to eat in the back room. It’s also against policy, but when was the last time Tetsurou cared about policy?

-

That second-long awareness stays with Tetsurou much longer than any customer interaction. Every day he deals with the soccer moms angrily returning shirts with the wrong band their kids love, the shoplifting high schoolers, and the nerds who buy Doctor Who merchandise and _still_ manage to look out of place in Hot Topic. He forgets those types as soon as he sees them, but the look from Mr. Abercrombie  & Fitch stays with him long after he leaves the store.

Working at Hot Topic, the eyeliner -- or, as Tetsurou likes to say, guyliner -- and Tripp pants become something like armor. Nobody looks at him for longer than a second; nobody other than Hot Topic’s target customer, anyway.

That’s why he can’t figure out why Mr. Abercrombie & Fitch looked at him with something almost like recognition in his eyes.

-

It’s beyond an understatement to say that Tetsurou is shocked when Mr. Abercrombie & Fitch asks, “is this seat taken?” the next day, pointing to the seat across from Tetsurou.

“Sure,” Tetsurou squeezes out while choking on Chik-fil-A. He stuffs the Harry Potter bookmark into his book a bit awkwardly, nodding to the seat. “I mean, no. Yeah, it’s free.”

“Cool,” Mr. Abercrombie & Fitch sighs, relieved. He holds his hand out and the only thing more bro than his look is his handshake. “I’m Koutarou, by the way. Koutarou Bokuto. You work at, uh, that dark place, right?”

“Hot Topic,” Tetsurou corrects. “And yeah, why?”

“Oh man, I’m glad!” Mr. Abercrombie-- _Koutarou_ says. “I’ve been working here for three weeks and I still don’t know _anybody!_ I thought it’d be a lot friendlier working in a mall, you know?”

“What you see is what you get,” Tetsurou confesses with a gesture of his hand.

Koutarou breaks fork from its plastic confines, giving Tetsurou a lookover. Tetsurou’s used to the gauging looks after years of working as a manager for his company, but something about this guy’s stare has him squirming. “So if I’m seeing you, is that what I get?”

Tetsurou’s eyes flick up from his lunch to Koutarou’s nervous, golden eyes and the peek of his top two teeth biting his bottom lip. Tetsurou watches, closely, taking note of the well-hidden bags beneath Koutarou’s eyes and the beginnings of wrinkles around the curve of his mouth. With that carefree, hardy laugh and abs for days, it’s much easier to believe Mr. Abercrombie & Fitch is younger than him from afar, but up close, Tetsurou recognizes the same insecurities of aging he sees when he looks at himself in the mirror.

Moving around his salad with the pathetic, plastic fork, Koutarou scrunches his shoulders and admits, blushing, “I-I like your guyliner.”

-

They end up making out in a bathroom stall in the hallway between Charley’s and Subway for the rest of their lunch break. Tetsurou confirms that yes, Koutarou does have a six-pack, and in turn Koutarou pulls on Tetsurou’s shirt, breathlessly asking between kisses, “so what’s this band?”

“No clue. It’s company policy I wear these stupid shirts,” Tetsurou confesses, tugging it over his head and hanging on the door’s coat hook for later. “I mostly listen to Chumba Wumba while getting high, to be honest. I didn’t even listen to Green Day’s newest album.”

“How are you still single?” Koutarou asks, pushing Tetsurou flush against the wall, getting on his knees, and pulling down the zipper of Tetsurou’s pants with his teeth. Tetsurou lets his head hit the back of the tiled walls and his hips thrust into Koutarou’s mouth. Forget the employee discount, Tetsurou’s just discovered his motivation for coming into work tomorrow. (And maybe some ~~body~~ thing else.)


	17. daily horoscope; rated t

“Hey, Kuroo, when’s your birthday?” Bokuto asks idly. He’s sprawled across Kuroo’s lap, kicking at Kuroo’s pillows with his bare feet while Kuroo tries to read a book for class.

“Stop that, it’s gross,” Kuroo scolds, grabbing a pillow to smack Bokuto’s feet away. Bokuto laughs because Kuroo’s just getting his pillows dirtier more quickly, which Kuroo seems to realize a second too late, tossing his pillow away with a small gagging sound. He smacks Bokuto with his book playfully with a quick reminder to stop making his room smell like feet. “And shouldn’t you know when your boyfriend’s birthday is?”

“I have too many important things to remember like how perfect my boyfriend is, so remind me.” On his phone, Bokuto has an astrology website pulled up, and he’s already navigated to the drop down menus to input their information. In truth he knows Kuroo’s birthday and that he’s a Scorpio, but it was getting too quiet with Kuroo reading and Bokuto simply wanted to hear Kuroo’s voice.

Bokuto would preen from how adorably Kuroo blushes, but he’s so used to it that the sight just warms Bokuto’s chest in a comforting, forever kind of way. “November 17th, why?”

“Thanks,” Bokuto says, already reading through their daily forecast. It’s accurate, as always. “Just checking our horoscope for today.”

“That stuff’s garbage,” Kuroo says, as though he doesn’t want to know what it says. He turns to his book, but it only lasts a few seconds. “What does it say for Scorpio?”

“You don’t believe in it, so it doesn’t matter,” Bokuto shoots back, grinning over his phone at Kuroo. He especially loves that annoyed face Kuroo gets whenever he wants something he doesn’t want to admit he wants. Bokuto intentionally hums a little, “huh,” or hmm,” or, _“oh,”_ just to get a rise out of Kuroo; Kuroo’s not the only one that likes to watch his boyfriend squirm nervously and adorably.

Eventually Kuroo tosses his book aside and Bokuto tries to keep his smirk to himself. “C’mon, stop fucking around and tell me what it is.”

“It says you are blessed in romance today,” Bokuto reads off.

Kuroo looms over Bokuto and tilts his head, obviously thinking of how generic such a fortune is, but he’s smiling. “And what else?”

“It saysss,” Bokuto draws out, forming an idea, “that you’re going to lose your love if you don’t appreciate it.”

“Wh-What? It really says that? That’s kind of morbid for a fortune.” It’s probably not the nicest thing to joke about, but Bokuto would be lying if he said he wasn’t comforted by how bothered Kuroo seems of the foreboding fortune. “What else?”

“It says that the best way to keep your love is to buy your boyfriend ice cream after dinner and pronounce your everlasting feelings of devotion in front of the entire school.”

Kuroo looks him in the eye and, in the most serious tone, says, “it doesn’t say that,” as though he actually believed Bokuto up until this point.

“It does! It does!” Bokuto insists. He wiggles on his back, cautious of the way Kuroo’s eyes narrow like that. “And it says that you should believe everything your boyfriend says and never doubt him!”

But Kuroo’s already leaning over him, and the next second he pounces, trying to wrestle Bokuto’s phone out of his hand. “No way. Let me see it!”

“Noooo! The fortune says that you can’t wrestle your boyfriend’s cellphone out of his hand or something bad will happen!” Bokuto squeaks out. Kuroo’s long and lanky, perfect for snaking his arms around Bokuto’s and stealing cellphones, so Bokuto rolls them over screaming.

“Oh yeah?” Kuroo smirks and Bokuto’s already laughing before Kuroo even begins to wiggle his fingers against Bokuto’s ribs. “What does the fortune say about me tickling my boyfriend to death?”

“That’s not allowed either! No tickling!” Bokuto gasps, rolling them over again so that Kuroo’s pressing him into the mattress. Kuroo begins kissing him, quick and chaste, but their kisses slowly melt into longer, deeper, wetter drags of lips on lips. Bokuto’s grip on his phone relaxes with every kiss, and it slips between his fingers to the floor when Kuroo starts to nibble on his lip. Kuroo may not believe in horoscopes but Bokuto does because they’re always right:

Virgo (August 23 - September 22) + Scorpio (October 23 - November 22)  
There’s a dry slump in your relationship, but your stars are aligned for romance! Set aside a little time to shake things up and make your significant other laugh. -- It will remind you why you fell in love with your S.O. in the first place!


	18. heaven/hell; rated all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by [tiniblu]()'s [artwork](https://tiniblu.tumblr.com/post/164757364368/this-was-originally-a8-bokuto-and-b8-kuro-for)!

Kuroo stops typing at the first glimmer of fluffy white wings that begin to creep closer and closer. He only has a second to snap the piles of paperwork away, immediately leaning back in his spinning chair and propping both feet, one hooked over the ankle, on his desk. “Well, well, well. Look at what the cat dragged in.”

“Bokuto Koutarou, dominion protector of the strong-willed. I’m here on behalf of the auditing services for the Division of Heavenly Governors,” the new face says while offering his hand and a smile.

That’s the thing with angels, they’re so Goddamn _perky_ , Kuroo thinks, shaking his hand gingerly. Even after Bokuto releases it, his hand aches; the guy shakes _hard_ for an angel, nothing like any of the pushovers that had come to his office in the past.

“Well, welcome to my humble office,” Kuroo says, gesturing to his _rustic_ office, the screams of incoming members in hell floating in the background. (His boss Nekomata has been guaranteeing him a promotion in the third ring of hell for the past two millennia, but Kuroo’s still stuck in his second-ring cave.) “To what do I owe the displeasure?”

“The Division of Heavenly Governors has some issues with the number of souls you’re trying to claim this quarter,” the angel explains. His wings don’t curl in on himself like the other angels’ wings do. The guy couldn’t look more out of place with his little halo beaming over his head and the soft blue bowtie, but he’s smiling comfortably as if he owns the place. “Your numbers are off by a few thousand, so I’m here to settle the affair.”

“Hmm, and do you have any _proof_ that our numbers are incorrect?” Kuroo asks smoothly. He lounges over his desk, ready for the usual back and forth to negotiate over souls that could go either way and _should_ go to limbo, but Kuroo decided to mark inbound for Hell anyway.

 _“Well,”_ Bokuto says, doing a snap of his own. A load of papers appears mid-air and slams onto Kuroo’s desk so hard that Kuroo startles away from it. Bokuto grabs a paper from one of the piles, smirking cockily. “It says here that a Josephina Jones is inbound for Hell, but that’s incorrect. Her long history of goodwill suggests that she belongs to us.”

“April 29th, 1969. She went to a tarot reader and got her fortune read with her boyfriend,” Kuroo shoots back. A flame sparks from his fingers when he snaps, manifesting in a paper that he hands to the angel. “Sounds like idolatry to me~”

“She was fifteen,” Bokuto says eventually, looking over the paper, “and she was born again.”

He tosses it back, which Kuroo holds for a second before shoving back. All it takes is a little snap of his fingers to change the ink, Jones’ soul bared on print. “December 23rd, 2026. She ran over a neighborhood cat.”

 _“On accident._ And if we’re playing like that, March 1st, 2001. She stayed with her neighbor and prayed the rosary over her dying body when nobody else would.”

“She wasn’t even a believer back then,” Kuroo challenges.

Bokuto shakes his head, a flurry of papers that washing over Kuroo’s head at the snap of the angel’s fingers. “Every instance of prayer between her Catholic baptism and her born again Christian baptism, _even_ during that agnostic phase. Her last words were a prayer of redemption. Dying breath trumps all.”

Kuroo grabs all the papers and aligns them into a neat stack, somewhat irritated. He’s grasping at straws, he knows, but he shoots his final piece of evidence: “she was vegan but ate meat on June 6th, 2022.”

Bokuto opens his mouth and then shuts it. It’s almost comical how he blinks, processing the absurd claim.

“She’s a liar and a sinner and you _know_ it,” Kuroo coos. His hooked tail shakes back and forth happily, the flutter in his heart telling him that he has the angel cornered.

But Bokuto crosses his arms and glares stubbornly, refusing to relent. “It was her cheat week.”

That gives Kuroo pause and he tilts his head, grinning. He’s always hated this job, but for once this is _fun._ “What did you say your name was again?”


	19. halloween party; rated t

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based off [the halloween merch](https://twitter.com/jworldtokyo/status/901987705579438080) bc lord knows we all love it!

_“Duuuude,”_ Bokuto practically whistles, one of his owlishly exaggerated eyebrows perked up. When he answered the door for Kuroo to pick them up for Oikawa’s costume party, he didn’t expect to see Kuroo take it so seriously. “What _are_ you? A werewolf? A zombie werewolf? A zombie werewolf on crack?”

“I’m a cat,” Kuroo says, pointing one of his furry paws to his headband with cat ears glued onto it. _“Duh.”_

-

The party, in a word, _blows_. Bokuto’s nursing a red solo cup filled with rum and coke, but it doesn’t make the party feel any more fun. So far he’s seen Akaashi throw one of his plastic arm props as a zombie mating ritual at Kenma, Oikawa run away from a machete-wielding Iwaizumi, and Ushijima act no differently as a zombie than he does any other day, and he’s still not managed to even crack a smile.

Bokuto doesn’t want to admit it, but he arrived at the party with Kuroo, and it feels like something’s missing now that Kuroo isn’t by his side. They’d walked up to the bar, poured their drinks, and then Kuroo was pouncing on Kenma to compare their cat costumes.

Bokuto’s so disappointed that he barely misses Kuroo walking up to him, carefully balancing his drink in between the zombie cat costume paws. “Why the long beak? Ha ha, get it?”

“Got it,” Bokuto says, grinning for the first time in awhile. It’s a horrible joke and not even really that funny, but it makes Bokuto smile when it’s Kuroo the one saying it.

Kuroo starts to remove his furry sleeves, only picking up his matching plastic cup to Bokuto’s with his bare, very-human arms. Bokuto has to pull his cup away to fight off Kuroo’s finger wiggling from side-to-side in a no-no manner. “Nuh uh, don’t even pull that look!”

“What look?” Bokuto asks defensively.

“That kicked puppy look!” Kuroo takes a swig of his drink and immediately sticks out his tongue like he doesn’t like the taste of vodka and the sugariest juice at this party. “Or kicked owl, I guess. Does yours even count as a costume?”

“It’s a good costume!” Bokuto pulls at his owl onesie and frowns. He’d thought it was a good costume at the time, at least, even if the only thing he had to do besides wear it was glue on the long, matching eyebrows that came with it. “It’s really warm.”

Kuroo sighs, throwing his head back against the wall like he hadn’t even heard. “This party’s kind of shit, huh?”

“The worst,” Bokuto agrees, laughing over his cup of booze. “Wanna get out of here?”

Kuroo winks at him and holds his plastic cup in cheers. Naturally, Bokuto clinks his against it. “You know it.”

-

‘Wanna get out of here?’ translates to, ‘wanna drink our crappy booze in the backyard?’ but Bokuto can’t complain. Kuroo’s pressed up against his side, now shivering without his furry sleeves to keep him warm.

“It’s cold,” Kuroo complains, and Bokuto sighs as if Kuroo’s causing him a huge grievance.

“C’mere,” he says, pulling one of his winged, woolen sleeves around his friend. Like the cat Kuroo’s dressed up as, he purrs while resting his head against Bokuto’s shoulder. Bokuto nearly shivers while Kuroo squirms into place, but he holds it back, his chest feeling far too warm from the booze and his best friend pressed against him to possibly claim he has a chill.

A cliche Halloween song filters through the open windows as steadily as the late fall breeze and Bokuto whispers, “Hey, Kuroo? Wanna do the Monster Mash?”

But Kuroo cups his jaw and tilts Bokuto’s face toward his own for a kiss. “Why can’t you just ask to make out normally like everybody else?”


	20. fitting bras; rated t

‘B-Big…!’ is all Kuroo can think, his hands holding the weight of Bokuto’s chest in either palm. Bokuto shifts uncomfortably, but every time he takes a deep breath like that, it heaves Kuroo’s hands up and down. Kuroo had joked that he’d have to use both hands to hold Bokuto’s pecs up, but he never imagined that he’d actually get the chance.

“You’re embarrassing me,” Bokuto admits shyly with a blush so thick, even his nipples look pink. “You like my chest that much?”

Kuroo hadn’t realized how dry his throat was until he tried to speak. He only manages a pathetic little whine the first time, but Bokuto doesn’t seem to notice, blushing back at him, pushing his chest into Kuroo’s hands even more, if anything.

“It’s alright,” Kuroo says. He watches Bokuto roll his eyes, and Kuroo wonders just how far he can push his boyfriend. It wasn’t at though Kuroo didn’t already have ideas. “I bet you could fit them into a bra.”

“No way,” Bokuto says sourly. “I’m not wearing anything girly. And they wouldn’t fit anyway.”

“You sure about that?” Kuroo asks, squeezing the curve of Bokuto’s chest in his hands and pushing them up for emphasis. Bokuto moans a little and instantly bites it back as if trying to hide the fact he’d moaned at all, and Kuroo begins rubbing each nipple with his thumbs until they both perk beneath his touch, leaving Bokuto breathless. “Looks like a perfect match to me.”

“You’re wrong!” Bokuto insists. “I’ll buy one and show you!”

Kuroo knows he’s blushing a bright red even down the back of his neck, but he doesn’t mind it, finding himself smirking. “Yeah, you better do that.”

-

About two weeks later, Bokuto stomps into Kuroo’s bedroom and slams a plastic bag on his bed. Kuroo barely has time to look at it and back to Bokuto before Bokuto snaps, “there! I got myself measured and everything.”

“What’s this?” Kuroo lifts one side of the plastic bag to peek inside, but he ends up slamming it down, eyes wide and distressed. “You didn’t.”

“You said it’d fit and it doesn’t!” Bokuto says defensively. Even though Kuroo can’t see beneath his shirt, Bokuto apprehensively crosses his arms over his chest as if to hide his nipples.

“Then you didn’t have to buy a-- You didn’t have to buy _that!”_ Kuroo squeaks, throwing the plastic bag at Bokuto.

Never one to back down to a challenge, Bokuto picks the bag from the floor and pulls out the lacey pink bra by the skinny, lacey strap, his face scrunched up as though the bra reeked and holding it as far away from him to complete the look. The bag floats to the ground as Bokuto takes the delicate lace into his hands. It’s a bit flexible, which Bokuto demonstrates masterfully, gingerly fitting it over his chest. The little pink ribbon between the cups lays stiffly between the curve of his full chest, stretched as far as it will allow over his broad chest, though the structureless cups fit funny.

“See? Told you it wouldn’t fit.”

“No,” Kuroo says, once again acquainted with his throat so dry that his voice sounds raspy. “You just gotta take off your shirt. It’ll look right then.”

“Will it?” Bokuto asks, quirking up an eyebrow. He’s smirking though, and by the sway of his hips, Kuroo knows he’s convinced Bokuto to try it out.


	21. owlman; rated all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm doing a little bokuroo au challenge this october, so i might drop the ones i like best here. if you'd like to read them all, [here's my tag for them on tumblr](https://90stimkon.tumblr.com/tagged/autober)!

It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s… _Owlman!_

Bokuto happily hums the Superman theme to himself as he soars through the sky, on the lookout for any suspicious robberies or evil deeds that he can swoop down, stop crime, and save the day. There's been a sharp decline in petty theft since he’s taken to the skies with his retractable wings and enhanced eyes, but Bokuto won’t settle until he defeats all evil for good.

Speaking of evil, Bokuto’s owlish eyes catch a glimpse of the living embodiment of Evil Incarnate. There’s a flash of a black tail whipping from side-to-side as his fated rival and the town’s (least) favorite anti-hero dashes from rooftop to rooftop. It used to be a white tail that flicked back and forth, but that was before he went by the name--  _“Black Cat.”_

Bokuto -- or, as he calls himself in costume, Owlman -- mutters beneath his breath as he swoops down. If he had talons like his superhero namesake, he’d descend with his claws outstretched and ready to attack. He still manages to stretch his wings to cast a menacing shadow as he nears Black Cat.

“Acting furry stupid today, aren’t you? Figured you’d know better than to show your face around here after last time!” Bokuto calls out.

Black Cat, mid-run and body still locked in place from running, turns on his heel, and Bokuto’s stomach does a weird flip that he only gets whenever he sees his boyfriend. He doesn’t want to feel tingly seeing the smile Black Cat’s trying to force down, but history is too strong. Bokuto may have cast away his feelings for Black Cat -- or rather, Tom Cat, the name Black Cat had been going by when they dated for a blissful three months -- but his body still remembers. Even now, his cheeks tug upward effortlessly just by being around him, by seeing Black Cat’s unamused grin. “A fur pun?  _Really?”_

Owlman shrugs. “At least I didn’t make a cat-dragged-in pun.”

“No, that would have worked because it’s a drag,” Black Cat reasons. He holds up a clawed paw and shakes it pointedly. “‘Well, well. Look at what the cat dragged in.’ See, it works?”

Owlman tilts his head, crossing his arms as he thinks it through. “But you  _are_ the cat. So how could the cat drag you in if you’re the cat?”

“That’s the genius of it! It’s a self-drag.” Black Cat shakes his head from side-to-side, the soft ears of his costume flicking gently. Bokuto’s always wondered if they were real or just really advanced technology. Bokuto pushes away the thought of rubbing his fingers against them, reminding himself his boyfriend’s ears are the only ones he wants to rub his fingers against. “See the opportunity you missed?”

“Oooh, you’re right! Too complicated though,” Owlman admits.

Even Black Cat seems to agree, nodding. “Seven out of ten. Not my best, I admit. -- Still better than yours, though. I’m winking, by the way.”

Bokuto can’t help a laugh. With Black Cat’s mask, there’d be no way of telling that he was winking. Before they dated, Tom Cat used to point out his winking as a way of flirting, and Bokuto missed that. He doesn’t regret breaking up; Tom Cat changed into Black Cat when vowed to kill villains while Owlman insisted on saving as much life as possible. Besides this moral dilemma, he still cared for Black Cat, even if he had never learned Black Cat’s civilian identity.

Bokuto reminds himself that Owlman has to uphold justice and human life, even if that means protecting villains and their rights. He crosses his arms and puffs his feathered chest out, a perfect picture of heroism. “Your good looks and puns are beside the point! I’m not letting you weasel your way out this time!”

“Of course not. I’m a cat, not a weasel,” Black Cat teases, his tail flickering behind him as he takes two steps backwards. Bokuto closes in the space but Black Cat had counted on that, flicking out a small pill that hits the beak of Bokuto’s costume and explodes in his face, a bright flash momentarily blinding and disorienting Owlman. Black Cat’s cackle is the last thing he hears. “Well this has been fun, but I got an appointment with a bad guy right about  _meow_. Seeya next time, noisy owl!”

The owl hero yells in desperation, lurching forward to try to grab Black Cat before he slips away, but it’s too late. His gloved talons grasp nothing. Still with spots in his eyes, Bokuto yells out, “that was a terrible pun!” even as Black Cat makes his getaway laughing.

That’s the second time Black Cat’s made a clean getaway this week, and Bokuto hoots loudly in frustration. His and Black Cat’s first-year anniversary would have been next week, and his sentimentality is throwing him off his game. This has to end; he can’t deliver justice if he’s being sloppy because of personal issues.

Tonight, he vows, he’s going to come clean about being Owlman and his relationship with Black Cat to his boyfriend. He’d taken a solemn vow to not mix his superhero life with his civilian alias in order to protect Kuroo, but he knows Kuroo loves him enough to get through this. Besides, he really needs somebody with whom he can rant about Black Cat.


	22. second times; rated t

Bokuto hasn’t been in Kuroo’s room for nearly 24 hours, a fact he doesn’t remember until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed next to Kuroo. Kuroo seems to realize it at the same time too because he goes from rowdily joking around to complete silence, cheeks red and suddenly finding his carpet to be the most interesting thing in his room. For his own part, Bokuto can’t stop thinking about sitting right on the very spot of Kuroo’s bed yesterday. Only then, they weren’t sitting sitting nervously and an arm’s length apart.

Bokuto feels himself blushing so hard that his ears feel hot, but he’s not too self-conscious about it since Kuroo looks as red as his Nekoma VBC uniform. He lightly bumps a knee against one of Kuroo’s, which is enough to get his boyfriend to look at him. Both of their hearts are racing so quickly that their chests heave even though they’re sitting in place. Kuroo smiles back when Bokuto flashes a bit of his teeth, his smile weak but sincere. 

Kuroo breaks the silence, poking Bokuto in the middle of his chest. “Cat got your tongue? What’s up with you?”

“Nooooothin’,” Bokuto drags out, but he blushes harder at the coy flirting. The cat didn’t have his tongue, unless Kuroo was the cat and he meant yesterday. If that was the case, then the cat has Bokuto’s tongue and a lot more too. “Wh-What’s up with you?”

“Nothin’,” Kuroo repeats back, catching Bokuto’s finger when Bokuto tries to poke him back. The only problem is that Bokuto poked the top of Kuroo’s hand, so really Kuroo’s just holding his hand without an excuse. Bokuto threads his fingers between Kuroo’s and squeezes, making Kuroo squint like he always does when he’s holding back a smile.

“Sooooo…” Bokuto smiles to himself and bumps his knee against Kuroo’s again, this time a bit more pointedly. “About last night…”

Kuroo’s breath catches. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Kuroo exhales and Bokuto takes the opportunity to inch closer, little by little until he’s close enough to bump shoulders against Kuroo’s. “It was fun.”

“Yeah,” Kuroo agrees, face angling toward Bokuto. Bokuto hasn’t needed much coaxing when it comes to kisses, but Bokuto resists the urge to wrap his arms around Kuroo’s shoulders and cling once Kuroo’s lips are on his own. 

They did a lot more last night than what they’re doing right now, but they’re both a little awkward and hesitant in their actions. If last night was a frenzy of impatient limbs and excited energy, then right now is a gentle memorization of hearts beating and shaky breathing. They kiss but it’s quick and chaste, Bokuto pecking little kisses on Kuroo’s lips while Kuroo cups Bokuto’s jaw and pets him gently, and both of them are grinning a bit too much to kiss properly.

“I liked it,” Bokuto confesses against Kuroo’s lips, and then, a bit more softly and a bit more deeply, he whispers, “and I wanna do it again.”


	23. home economics; rated all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part of a 20 minute challenge with [tiniblu](http://tiniblu.tumblr.com)! a+ accompanying art [here](https://twitter.com/tiniiblu/status/940748833448964099).

“Here,” Bokuto says, tossing Kuroo a mason jar of jelly as soon as they’re settled down. Jurassic Park will be playing any second now and Kuroo’s been waiting for this movie all summer long, but right now he can’t focus on anything except the canister thrown into his hands. 

“What is it?” he asks, squinting at the jar and holding it up to the movie screen to see if he can see it any better. He can’t.

“Cut that out. It’s strawberry jam,” Bokuto mumbles. He sinks into his seat a little, and even though it’s dim, he can see Bokuto blushing. “I just had some leftover.”

“From what? Your mom?” Kuroo asks incredulously. He pockets it carefully, just in case, and watches Bokuto’s cheeks heat up even further.

“Made it in home ec.”

 _“Home ec!?”_ Kuroo asks, but Bokuto’s already pushing him away.

“I take it instead of P.E. since I already play volleyball.” Bokuto silences him with a palm over Kuroo’s mouth. “Shut up, the movie’s starting!”

-

Kuroo can’t stop thinking about it, though. _Bokuto_ took home economics? He just can’t see it. Did Bokuto cut out family portraits and delicately arrange them into a scrapbook? Did he cook little lunches and gift them to members of his team, much like he did with Kuroo and the jam? Did he learn how to budget for utilities and account for taxes?

Kuroo just can’t fathom it, the irresponsible, moody Bokuto he knows being a homemaker. Kuroo falls asleep, dreaming of Bokuto knitting blankets for little baby girls.

-

“It’s a table runner,” Bokuto explains, handing Kuroo a roll of cloth with a thickly, bright red face. “You want it?”

“Sure,” Kuroo says, a bit unsure why he’s choked up. The stitched characters of Bokuto’s name look too delicate for the rough hands he knows can spike a ball hard enough to break somebody’s hand. “You don’t mind?”

Bokuto shrugs. He looks a bit cheeky looking away and admitting, “it was a class assignment and nobody wanted it.”

“Don’t pass your junk onto me!” Kuroo yells, though junk is the last thing he thinks of Bokuto’s table runner as. Bokuto blushes and starts laughing.

-

“She looks cute,” Bokuto says, leering outside of the fast food restaurant they’re grabbing a post-arcade bite at. His lips part into a smile wide enough to show off his canines.

Kuroo watches the girl pass by the window and neither frowns nor smiles. He shrugs. “I like ‘em more…domestic.”

Domestic. That was a safe word. Gender neutral. Honest. Pointedly about Bokuto.

Kuroo looks up, nearly ready to swallow his burger whole, but Bokuto just looks at him judgmentally. “You’re so weird.”

-

“Your room is, uh,” Bokuto lets trail off, unsure how to finish that sentence.

Kuroo feels his back stiffen, knowing perfectly well what Bokuto means but feeling defensive all the same. “Don’t blame me for all the junk you passed off to me!”

“I’m not!” Bokuto barks back, but he’s blushing. He takes a seat at the little desk Kuroo has, looking around. Bokuto’s jam is on Kuroo’s nightstand, half-eaten, and the runner separates the bookcase from some of Kuroo’s favorite childhood books. There’s a few other things, too, like a scrapbook page Bokuto made about Fukuroudani VBC and a small tin of imperfectly shaped cinnamon-sugar cookies Bokuto made last week. “It’s just…weird!”

“I think it’s homey,” Kuroo says defensively. He sits on his bed, glancing at the jam and cookie tin on his nightstand. Bokuto squirms, blushing, and shakes his head. Kuroo persists though, “you’re better at it than you think you are, you know.”

He pulls out a cookie out of the tin and scrapes some jam onto it. Bokuto’s face goes from a flushed rose to a tomato red. “I-It’s just stupid stuff! Everybody thinks so too. If my school didn’t say volleyball counted as P.E. I wouldn’t have to take it.”

“I don’t think so,” Kuroo says seriously, once he’s finished gobbling up Bokuto’s sweets. He smiles easily and pats his waist. “My coach is already getting after me for a few pounds gained. You’ll make a good house taker somebody. You know, if you want to.”

“Hmm.” Bokuto doesn’t sound like he believes Kuroo, but he’s having an awfully hard time avoiding Kuroo’s gaze for somebody who isn’t interested in what Kuroo’s saying. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Kuroo corrects. He smiles. “You’ll make a guy happy someday.”

Bokuto bites his bottom lip and Kuroo pretends for a second that it’s meant for him.


	24. lucky undies; rated m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another of the drabbles from a 20min challenge with [! accompanying images ](http://tiniblu.tumblr.com/)[over here](https://twitter.com/tiniiblu/status/940748833448964099)!

This isn’t how Bokuto thought it would be. He thought that his heartbeat would skip a beat throughout the entire day, knowing that tonight would be the night. He thought that Kuroo’s parents would finally be out of town so that they could be as loud as they want to be. He thought that it would be special, the first time he saw Kuroo’s dick. He didn’t expect it to be during finals’ week, in a spur of the moment equal parts frustration and desire.

“You’re hard,” Kuroo had whispered into his ear, and Bokuto had laughed so hard that Kuroo tickled the inside of his ear, “be quiet or my mom will hear!” that Bokuto couldn’t help but bust out laughing.

“You’re hard too,” Bokuto counters, grinding against Kuroo. They’re both fully clothed, Bokuto in his Fukuroudani uniform wedged and rutting between the soft charcoal pants of Kuroo’s Nekoma uniform. 

“Mm,” Kuroo hums, and that’s when Bokuto should know that he’s up to no good. But Bokuto doesn’t realize it until Kuroo tugs at his waistband and says, “so maybe take it off.”

Don’t get Bokuto wrong, it’s not like he doesn’t know about Kuroo’s dick. He’s felt it before, jerked it off, even sucked on it. But that was all in the dark of the night, the lights off, and so quietly that neither of their parents heard. It wasn’t by the light of the day, when they could be walked in at any moment. “Right now?”

“Why not?” Kuroo shrugs and grins so broadly that he has to bite down his smile. Bokuto notices his hips wiggle as gently as a butterfly's wings flapping. “As long as we keep quiet…”

And it’s not as if Bokuto doesn’t want to. He’s been dreaming about this day, aching at night when his touch isn’t enough to satisfy him, thinking of how he needs Kuroo’s hand, or his mouth, or his dick. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Kuroo asks, as though he suddenly doesn’t understand Japanese. 

“Okay,” Bokuto says again. He grins a matching smile to Kuroo’s, biting down on his bottom lip just enough that his front two teeth shows. He grinds on Kuroo’s lap, where he’s seated. “I want you too, you know.”

“It’s happening,” Kuroo breathes, and Bokuto suspects he didn’t mean to say that out loud. Bokuto will give Kuroo the benefit of the doubt, since he’s into the idea and just as embarrassed as Kuroo seems to be. He hopes he doesn’t look constipated as he tugs off his tie and school blazer, tossing them aside. But Kuroo says again, “it’s really happening.”

“Not if you keep saying that,” Bokuto teases, unbuttoning his shirt. He raises an eyebrow and Kuroo begins to similarly shed his school uniform. From behind Kuroo’s shut door, they hear his mom laughing along to a variety show. They block her out. Kuroo even puts some mood music on his phone. Bokuto nods approvingly.

It isn’t long before they’re both stripped to their pants, kissing long and deep as their hands roam. This is familiar territory, but Bokuto hopes that it isn’t just him that’s nervous to unbuckle Kuroo’s pants. 

Luckily, Kuroo takes the lead, guiding Bokuto’s hands to unbutton the top button of Kuroo’s uniform pants. It must be some kind of magic because Kuroo’s pants slip down his thighs just as Bokuto’s tongue begins to explore his molars. Kuroo’s palm stretches over his spine and ribs and Bokuto sighs into his mouth. It feels like a little slice of heaven.

“My turn,” Kuroo says, now unbuttoning Bokuto’s pants between breaths. Bokuto sighs into it, pushing his hips against Kuroo’s thigh and riding his knee until Kuroo’s hands begin to rub at the back of his thigh. Kuroo’s chest shakes, and it takes a moment to realize that Kuroo is _laughing_ at him.

“Wh--” But Bokuto doesn’t get to finish that question. No sooner than thinking of, “why?” Bokuto remembers: he hadn’t been planning on showing his intimates to Kuroo any time soon, especially not today. He’s wearing his favorite undies -- his _lucky_ undies -- which are studded with little owls on them. “They’re my lucky underwear!”

“Obviously,” Kuroo throws back, smirking. He wiggles his hips and it feels so good that Bokuto can’t restrain a soft moan as he tilts his head back. Kuroo’s lips are hot behind his ear and his teeth feel like perfection nibbling on his lobe.

“Hey…” Bokuto tries after a moment, swallowing down the little cry bubbling out of his lungs. Kuroo feels as hot and silky as melting chocolate. Bokuto ruts against him once more before trying again. _“Hey.”_

A little annoyed, Kuroo pulls his lips away and asks, “what?”

Bokuto snaps the elastic band of Kuroo’s underwear, which snaps loudly in the small confines of his room. Bokuto claims Kuroo’s lips, but before that, he teases, “you’re wearing your lucky undies too.”

Kuroo laughs into Bokuto’s mouth, kicking off his cat-print underwear, which fall to the foot of his bed, abandoned on top of Bokuto’s, as the posts of his bed softly begin to rock in place. 

**Author's Note:**

> scream bokuroos at me on [tumblr](https://90stimkon.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/cloneboys), and if you liked what you read, [consider commissioning me](https://90stimkon.tumblr.com/post/162750545663/commission-me)!


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